Carry On My Wayward Son
by weirdmixofsodapopanddallas
Summary: Ponyboy is grown up. He's graduated highschool and started college. Problem is, freedom can get to anyone's head. / Sodapop feels like his father is disappointed in him. At first it bugs him, but now he doesn't care. Or so he thinks. But what about when it's too late? (Based on Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas)
1. fast cars and freedom

PONYBOY'S POV

Mom and Dad had always called me their 'wayward son'. I hadn't really understood what the phrase meant for a long time. They always used it when I was in trouble or being stubborn about something, which I honestly was a lot. As much as I loved my parents, I tended to be at odds with them. Kind of like with Darry.

Now they've been gone for four years. I've turned eighteen. I'm going to college. And honestly, I think there's more truth in that statement than there's ever been.

See, sometimes freedom can go to a person's head and they take it too far. Me, I was enjoying the fact that I didn't have Darry or the state breathing down my neck anymore. I was enjoying living away from home in a college dorm. And I was taking advantage of the lack of rules. As long as I sent home good grades, Darry didn't need to know the level of partying and trouble I was getting into.

Vandalism was a huge part of what me and my friends were doing. We'd break in windows and key cars and spray paint and, well, just about anything else that came to mind. Generally we were pretty damn drunk.

I know, I know, 'Ponyboy what are you thinking?!'. That's just it. At the time, I wasn't thinking. I was just doing what I wanted in the moment, and damn, did it feel good. At least, sort of. There was a part of me that saw the lack of peace and fulfillment in my life, but I pushed that part of me way down and ignored it.

One day, I was supposed to write a paper in english about seeing past the illusion of society to the nitty-gritty reality that not everything was sunshine and rainbows. I thought I had this covered. I'd been a victim of that nitty-gritty reality my whole life. The way I saw it, I'd risen above the noise and confusion and that I'd seen beyond what the whole world wanted me to see. So I wrote the paper and got an incredible grade. It was really just a repeat of several papers I'd written before.

I guess, in a way, that was the start of my downward spiral. I'd been climbing higher and higher, and at this point, I felt like I was on top of the world. But I wasn't really. I'd really just gotten, well, I guess we could call it 'too high'. I'd hit a point where I felt invincible. I didn't think anything could touch me.

Yeah. Wayward son.

Honestly, I may have known the truth and answers to that lesson once, but not anymore. My eyes could see. They had seen. But I was blind again now. I'd forgotten the most important lesson of all. I still logically knew it. I swear I did. But I was crazy enough to start thinking it applied to everyone but me.

No one is invincible. And, eventually, the universe is going to come get you if it thinks you've been too comfortable for too long.

I guess I was too comfortable for too long.

See, I went to this party. It was a frat party, the worst kind. Or, by my way of thinking, the _best_ kind. I swear all I intended to do was drink a few beers and leave. Instead, I got into a drinking contest and when I finally left and climbed in my car, I was so drunk I'd be willing to swear there were three of everything and it was all three feet to the right of where it really was.

Yeah, can you imagine how _that_ turned out?

See, I hit a pole. And a brick wall. And a couple other cars. I damaged my car basically beyond repair and banged myself up pretty good too.

I hunted down a pay phone and called the first person that came to mind. Sodapop. Him and Steve had got an apartment together a couple months ago, so at least I wouldn't have to worry about Darry answering the phone.

"Hello?" He sounded like he'd just woke up and was kind of pissed about it. I'd forgot it was about four in the morning.

"Hey, Soda? It's Ponyboy."

"What's up, kiddo?" His voice was more urgent now. There weren't a ton of reasons he could think of that I'd be calling him at this time of night, and none of them were good. And that was without him knowing what I'd been getting up to.

See, I'd spent the last six months lying to him and Darry like there was no tomorrow. I told them I spent a lot of time at the library and the movie theater like I used to. I didn't tell them about the fights and the drinking and the girls and the vandalism. I played it off like I was still being a good boy, like I had a purpose in life, in what I was doing. In reality, I'd lost all purpose. I really didn't know what I was doing anymore. And that scared me.

"Soda, I wrecked my car…"

"You _what_?"

"...against a pole… and a brick wall… and some other cars… It ain't really runnin' anymore." I was slurring my words so bad and I knew it, but I just couldn't help it.

Soda knew I was drunk. He heard it too, and he knew. "Kiddo, how much booze did you have?"

"I dunno." I muttered. "I got in a drinking contest with this guy, and… I dunno. I lost count. Oh, who gives a damn, this is normal."

Yeah, shouldn't have said _that_.

"What d'you mean, 'this is normal'? What the hell kind of normal is this?"

"Trust me, Sodapop. I know what I'm doing." No I didn't. A bigger lie hadn't been told in the history of man.

And he knew it. "Like shit you know what you're doin'. What is going on with you, Ponyboy?"

I was all set to lie my ass off some more, but, for some reason, I just couldn't do it all of a sudden. "I - I don't know."

There was a pause on the other end. "Why?"

"Hell if I know, Sodapop. I've been crazy lately. Honestly, I think they're gonna expel me."

"Whoa. Okay. That can't happen, and you know it. Darry'll kill you. And don't even get me started on what _I'll_ do."

"Soda, am I a failure?" Don't question my logic. Drunk people do and say and think weird things.

"No, Pone, you ain't a failure. What the hell made you think that?"

"I dunno. I was always supposed to be the one who went somewhere and made somethin' of myself, but I haven't. Not really. All I've done is move out and party. I honestly don't know how my grades are still okay."

"Ponyboy, if you know it's wrong, then why are you still doin' it?" Soda wasn't angry like you'd think. He was being calm and rational. I guess he was trying to get me to think through what I was doing, something I'd been doing my best to avoid since I'd started. He knew that if I really went through it step-by-step, I would quit. I'd know it was dumb and I would quit.

"Soda, there's somethin' about it that's so great. You wouldn't know, you've never tried it. But it calls to you. Once you've started, ya don't wanna quit. Nothing really compares." I don't know who I was trying to convince at this point, him or me.

"Ponyboy, you listen and you listen good. You are gonna stop. Right now. I'm gonna come get you and bring you back to my place. You are gonna stay here while I write some of the other schools that were willing to take you and get you enrolled in one of them. You are gonna quit the university of Oklahoma and go someplace else. Once we have you all settled, then we'll tell Darry. Now, is there any part of this that don't make sense to you?"

"Why do I have to leave school?" I didn't understand. I liked it just where I was. Maybe too much.

"Because, those people are the reason you got outta hand in the first place. You need to get away from them."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Soda laughed suddenly. "Y'know what this reminds me of?"

"What?"

"What Mom and Dad always used to call you. I can't remember the word. Started with a w?"

I smiled too. "Wayward."

Soda showed up to get me after about an hour (I don't even want to think about all the laws he broke doing that) and we followed his plan to a t. Steve was a little pissed off about me staying at his and Soda's place and he bitched me out about it pretty good the first time we were alone. After that, though, he was weirdly supportive. It was like he'd filled his daily quota of being a dick and could be nice now. Soda got me into the university of Tulsa, saying that if I couldn't handle living in the dorms, I could always go home and live with Darry.

That was enough incentive to be good.

Telling Darry was an interesting experience. He didn't seem to care that I'd quit and gotten everything all straightened out. He just cared that I'd dropped out of college because I'd been partying too much and crashed my car. There was a lot of shouting, which ended in me telling him that I was eighteen and I could do what I want and stomping out of the house. I called him later and apologized. We made up and everything went back to normal there. Or, at least, as normal as it ever gets between us.

I was happy with the move. I was happy with the new friends and probably my first steady girlfriend in two years. I finally felt like my life wasn't an empty hole anymore. It was like heaven.

And honestly, after everything that's ever happened to me, I'd say I deserved it.


	2. You're supposed to be better than this

_Author's note: so, when I was trying to decide on a story to base of of 'Carry On My Wayward Son' by Kansas, I came up with two ideas. The previous chapter was the first idea. This is the second one. I don't think it's as good, but I hope you still like it._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own the outsiders or any of the characters_

SODAPOP'S POV

My dad and I didn't get along. I suppose that's the first important piece of information. He wanted sons who were brilliant. Who did well at school and all teachers loved to have in class. He wanted his boys to get somewhere in life. He got what he wanted with Darry. He got what he wanted with Ponyboy.

He was utterly disappointed when it came to me.

I knew he wanted it for me because he loved me. I loved him too. I just didn't like feeling like I wasn't important, like I was second best, so I decided that since he was already gonna be mad no matter what I did, I was gonna do whatever the hell it was I wanted.

I remember probably one of the worst conversations we ever had. It was that day where they give you your report card right before term 4, and Ponyboy got home long before I did, proud of his straight As. I took as long as humanly possible. I'd already opened and read through my report card, and it wasn't pretty. I had straight Fs, except for auto-mechanics and gym, and the teachers all had plenty to say about me. Talks too much in class. Has a foul mouth sometimes. Just a plain old spazoid. Yeah, my english teacher literally wrote that on it.

When I came in the front door, I did my best to sneak back to my bedroom without being noticed. Maybe I could burn the report card and tell my dad it'd gotten lost.

No such luck.

"Sodapop, I'd like to see your report card, please."

Oh. Shit.

I went into the living room, handed Dad my report card, then took off back to my room and barricaded myself in. I wasn't in the mood for this just now.

A couple minutes later, my dad hammered on the door. "Sodapop, I need to talk to you." When I didn't answer, he knocked harder. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis, you open this door this instant."

"No." I said.

"What d'you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean exactly what I said. I ain't openin' the damn door."

"Watch your language, young man."

"Damn well make me."

"Sodapop, I'm incredibly disappointed in you." There was that word again. Disappointed. Did he ever feel any other emotion when it came to me? "It's not like you ain't smart. You're just a smart person being lazy, not a dumb person trying."

He was wrong. I was dumb. I'd known that pretty much all my life.

"Look at Darry. He's going to college next year, once he's got enough saved up. Ponyboy got put up a year in grade school and is doing really well. Why aren't you?"

No way in _hell_ was I going to answer that question.

"And your teachers think you're absolute hellspawn. Except the ones who have a crush on you. You could let off a bomb in their classes and they wouldn't care."

I smiled at that one. I'd used that to my advantage once or twice.

"You're supposed to be better than this."

Ouch.

"You stay in there. You're grounded."

So there's a sampling of what me and my dad were like most of the time. We'd gotten a little better by the time Valentines rolled around that year. We weren't at each other's throats all the time, don't get the wrong idea. We just had issues.

Anyhow, like I said, I did what I wanted. I've never felt so free. I was happy. I had my brothers, my parents, my friends, my girlfriend, and all the fun a sixteen-year-old boy could want. I felt like the world couldn't touch me.

I guess I should've known it couldn't last forever.

I was on my way home from dropping Sandy off at her house on Valentines. It was about midnight, and I was so happy I was practically floating. I knew my parents didn't approve of Sandy. They warned me that she was trouble and that she'd break my heart someday, but I didn't listen to them. I loved her. I smiled to myself.

I saw my parents car round the corner. They were on their way home too, I guess. They'd gone out on a date that night too. Maybe I could get a ride from them.

Before I even had a chance to wave at them a car came speeding around the other corner, swerving crazily. It was obviously a drunk driver. And they were headed right for them.

I don't know which one of my parents was driving. I never bothered to find out. Whichever one of them it was tried to swerve and avoid the car, but failed and it nailed them head on.

I knew it was over. I didn't need to go look at the bodies. I didn't need to check for a pulse. I literally just felt something inside me disappear and I knew.

Call me a coward, but I turned tail and ran. Ran as far and as fast as I could. I didn't run home. I didn't go to tell Darry and Pony what I'd seen. I didn't call the cops or an ambulance or anything. I took off to the lot.

I'm not huge on smoking. That's just the honest truth, but that day, I chain-smoked my way through three packs before I was willing to even consider going home. By the time I was done, it was about three o'clock in the morning. I hoped somebody else had already gone to our house and told my brothers about what had happened, because I sure as hell didn't want to.

Like I said, call me a coward. You wouldn't be lying.

When I finally walked in the front door, Darry and Ponyboy were sitting on the couch together. Darry looked shocked and Pony was crying. I just stood there and stared at them stupidly. I wasn't sure exactly what to say at this point.

"Soda." Darry said gently, like he was talking to a frightened animal. "There's somethin' real serious I gotta tell ya."

"Don't bother." I muttered, looking down at my feet. "I already know. I saw."

"You… what?"

I looked back up and met Darry's eyes. "I saw drunk driver hit their car, okay? I saw it. I know what happened. You don't need to draw me a picture. I could probably draw a better one. I'm goin' to bed."

And just like that, I left Ponyboy and Darry alone in the living room. I wasn't in the mood to commiserate with my brothers just then. I didn't want to cry with them. I wanted to cry by myself.

Seriously. If you called me a coward, I wouldn't even be mad.

I fell asleep pretty much right after I laid down on the bed. It'd been a draining day, physically and emotionally. My parents wove in and out of my dreams, never in a way that freaked me out, but it sure as shit made me sad. I missed them. I didn't know how I'd keep going without them. I didn't really see a point in it. I really wished I'd got a chance to tell them I was sorry for all the things I'd done. I hadn't been a good son. I'd been a wayward idiot who did whatever he wanted, everything else be damned.

The last thing I heard my dad say in my dream as I woke up the next morning was this: "You just gotta carry on, Pepsi-Cola. What else is there to do?"


End file.
